


Wardrobe Malfunction

by valda



Series: The Deaths of Supreme Leader Snoke [14]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidental Death, Blood, Character Death, Farting, Gen, Snoke POV, Snoke's Gold Robe, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: A day in the life of Supreme Leader Snoke. (The last day, actually.)





	Wardrobe Malfunction

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr [here](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/167956414213/what-about-a-snoke-death-by-wardrobe-malfunction) in response to a Snoke death prompt. ladymarajade asked: What about a snoke death by wardrobe malfunction? I really hate the new gold robe.

Supreme Leader Snoke awoke tired and in pain, as always. He pushed himself out of bed, letting his feet slide into his comfy white slippers, and pulled on his gold robe, raising an arm to admire the way the fabric shimmered. He really loved this robe. He could essentially wear pajamas all day and it was acceptable because the robe was  _so nice_. (And also because no one dared question Supreme Leader.)

Smacking sleep-gummy lips and blinking the haze from his eyes, Snoke moved toward his bedroom holoprojector. It took General Hux two minutes to answer his call, which was exceptionally fast for this early in the morning. “General,” Snoke greeted him, “it is time for another morale-boost speech.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux said crisply. “Do you have a topic in mind?”

“Me,” Snoke said. “Remind the people of my greatness. A brief, ten-minute recounting of my most thrilling exploits should suffice.”

General Hux paused, likely overwhelmed by the prospect of distilling everything that was wonderful about Snoke down to only ten minutes. Snoke gave him what he hoped was a kindly smile (his face was all melty; who knew what the expression actually looked like to Hux) and added, “I can suggest a few passages from my memoirs?”

“That won’t be necessary, Supreme Leader.” Hux had such initiative. It would be a shame when he outlived his usefulness. It would happen, though; no one was ever useful for very long.

“Very well.” Snoke waved a hand, dismissing Hux, and the holo faded. It occurred to Snoke that he should have called Kylo Ren as well, reinforced his conditioning a little, but he supposed that could wait. Leaving him alone with his own self-hatred was also a means of conditioning him.

(Snoke truly was brilliant, wasn’t he? Finding not one, but two exceptional young men and grooming them from childhood. Or, in Kylo’s case, from the womb! Such an impressive feat would surely be remembered for tens of thousands of years. And, of course, Snoke would live to see it remembered. Snoke would outlive everyone. Snoke would be the only being left to witness the heat death of the universe. Snoke’s life itself was a testament to his greatness.)

“Time for some shopping, I think,” Snoke said to himself, cinching the belt of his robe tight and leaving his bedroom. His praetorian guard fell into step around him as he made his way to his throne room.

Unlike his bedroom, Snoke’s throne room was a monument to asceticism, grand in scale but largely unadorned. It wouldn’t do for the people who served him to grow resentful of his riches. Snoke lowered himself gingerly onto his throne, sighing at the way his knees creaked. This was the only thing that made the thought of living essentially forever unpleasant: his aged, injured physical form. The Force sustained him, but it couldn’t fix everything.

Snoke called up a few holodisplays and was soon happily browsing the wares of clothing merchants, sellers of antiquities, purveyors of gourmet foods, and dealers of exotic animals. He’d always wanted a loth-cat. He’d heard they were delicious. Perhaps now was the time to finally buy.

His shopping spree took up most of the day. There wasn’t really anything else interesting to do. General Hux and Kylo Ren handled the day-to-day operations of the First Order. Snoke received intelligence reports and let the Force tell him which details were important, then used this information to steer Hux and Kylo down the paths he’d chosen for them. (The Order was a useful vehicle, but it wasn’t necessary; none of this was  _necessary_. He could employ any strategy to eliminate the Jedi, find and purge or turn all other Force-users, and secure his hold on the galaxy. This just happened to be the one that was working right now.)

In the afternoon he ordered an invasion of the planet that was the source of his favorite tea, because why not simply bring it into the Order and thereby avoid middlemen? It was a small Outer Rim world that the Republic didn’t care about, so the colonizing shouldn’t waste too many resources. (The lack of concern of the Core Worlds for the Rim was part of why it was so easy to recruit to the First Order. Galactic politics were so mind-numbingly simple.)

Evening came, and it was finally time to retire. Snoke returned to his bedroom to enjoy his riches. He browsed his closet, running his hands over gorgeous robes and tunics that he never wore. He ate fruits that cost a fortune to get out here in the Unknown Regions. He sat on an enormous pile of cushions that each cost more than any First Order officer made in a year, and he let out an enormous fart right into them, because he could.

Then he decided to take a nice hot bath, soothe his aching muscles. As the water filled his enormous, swimming-pool sized tub, Snoke opened his robe and pissed all over an effigy of Mon Mothma.

Supreme Leader Snoke was the greatest leader the galaxy had ever seen. Everyone loved him, and the people who didn’t love him just needed some gentle (or not-so-gentle) convincing. He would rule them all, and they would thank him for it.

Smiling (he was pretty sure it was a smile this time), Snoke began climbing the steps to his bathtub, shrugging the robe off his shoulders so he could drop it to the floor.

Or at least, that was his intent. But before the robe got past his elbows, one dangling end of the belt came up under his foot. He stepped on it without meaning to; this pulled him off balance and sent him reeling forward, arms trapped in the robe so that he couldn’t reach out to catch himself. Snoke’s eyes had barely enough time to widen before his face came down hard onto the marble staircase.

Then Snoke did nothing at all but bleed, gushing head wound painting his bathwater pink as his life drained away.


End file.
